


The Moral Kicks In

by Gigapoodle



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-02 12:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4059670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigapoodle/pseuds/Gigapoodle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not every leader is born a leader, and some are just forced into it by falling out of a hole in the sky. In fact, some have no leadership qualities at all, and are just trying to get by. </p><p>This is the story of Kyza Trevelyan, a nervous mage shoved into a situation she wants no part of. But she has to do it. Because no matter how inadequate she may feel, or how stressful the situation is, she has to do it. For the people of Thedas, and for herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. As of This Moment

**Author's Note:**

> I love Cullen and I love my Inquisitor and I've set out to make the cheesiest most heartbreakingly adorable fic of them. Forgive me.

“As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.”

And there it was. It felt underwhelming; Kyza expected more from this moment, like a bang, a crowd cheering, rallying for their success. But here they were, in a barely lit room in the back of the Chantry, throwing around ideals as if power could fly from their fingertips. Cassandra continued.

“We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order, with or without your approval.” Cassandra stared daggers at the Grand Chancellor, as if daring him to make a move.

Grand Chancellor Roderick smoldered in his own hatred, clearly beaten. He turned around and swiftly left the room, leaving Cassandra, Leliana, and Kyza within.  
Leliana continued to speak about the hopelessness of the situation, but Kyza couldn’t pay attention. Within the last day, she had been saved from horror by what many claim to be Andraste herself; accused of the murder of Divine Justinia; stopped the Breach from growing; and been thrown into the chaos of building a new force to defeat the evils of Thedas. Not to mention all of the dead bodies of the many Inquisition soldiers, the demons spewing from the rips in the Fade…..

Cassandra snapped Kyza back to attention. “Will you help us, Herald of Andraste? Will you join the Inquisition’s forces?”

Kyza looked at Cassandra, and immediately knew that Cassandra could feel her fear. She wasn’t hiding it well. Her hands moved behind her back and clasped, and she tried to shake off her nerves. “I…..this is all so strange. I don’t know….I don’t know what you want me to do, exactly.” Kyza was shaking a little, too little for any of the others to notice.  
“Neither do we,” Cassandra stated with her usual boldness. As scary as the situation was to Kyza, the Seeker seemed unfazed. “But it is clear that you are our only hope for closing the Breach. We need you, Herald.” Her hand stuck out towards Kyza. “Help us fix this before it is too late.”

As much as Kyza wanted to run away from the situation, pretend that this was a dream in the Fade, she knew the circumstances were real. She knew that the mark on her hand, whatever it was, had closed that Breach, and that Thedas needed her power. Kyza was frightened, but attempted to swallow that fear down as she stuck her hand out.

“I want to help, Cassandra.” She avowed. “I….will do what is in my power to close the Breach.” Cassandra brightened up at these statements, seemingly surprised at the Herald’s cooperation. As much as Cassandra proclaimed that Kyza was innocent, there was still a part of her that saw Kyza as the prisoner from a day ago.

With that swift handshake, Kyza had cemented herself as the symbol of the Inquisition, the Herald of Andraste; and she was afraid.  
\---  
Cassandra led Kyza to the War Room to discuss tactics for the Inquisition. Kyza did not understand why she needed to be there; she was a mere symbol at this point, a figurehead for the Inquisition, as good or bad as that may be. She did not have the diplomatic or political experience to guide decisions, nor did she have the military experience to lead these troops forward. Her presence was most likely a formality, one of many she would have to accept.

Kyza’s thoughts were interrupted with a question from the Seeker. “Does it…trouble you?” Her gaze looked down at Kyza’s hand, her head tilted contemplatively.

“The mark?” Kyza croaked, but then straightened herself; “It, well…..it stings occasionally, but it’s the symbolism of it that bothers me the most.”

Cassandra grunted in response, seemingly understanding Kyza’s troubles. “What’s important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach. You’ve given us time, and Solas believes that a second time might succeed, provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by.”

“Hopefully you have something in mind?” Kyza blurted; although she had told herself not to speak up during the War Room meeting, she was warming up to the Seeker and felt comfortable talking to her.

“We do.”

Cassandra opened the Chantry’s back doors and motioned for Kyza to enter. She walked in tentatively, unsure of what to expect; she was welcomed to Leliana and two unfamiliar faces. Cassandra spoke up, with more authority than before;

“May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces.” Kyza eyed him; he was incredibly handsome, with slicked blond hair and light stubble across his defined jawline. His tall stature was made broader by his armor and his coat, lined with red fur at the neckline. He was incredibly intimidating too, which was probably why he chose to dress as he did.

A sigh emitted from the Commander. “Such as they are.” His face softened. “We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through.” Kyza nodded his way, in an attempt to empathize with the Commander.

Cassandra continued. “This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.” To Kyza, she was dressed exactly as one would expect; frilly gold shirt, perfectly styled hair, wrapped in a bun. Josephine stood there with her reports in one hand and a quill in another. “It is nice to meet you, Herald,” Josephine said with a quick bow, the continued to write her reports under her candle. A lady constantly at work, Kyza thought, before Cassandra moved on.

“And of course, you know Sister Leliana,” Cassandra added, before Leliana chimed in. “My position here involves a degree of-“

“She is our spymaster,” Cassandra barked, as if knowing that Leliana would try and dramatize her title. Leliana sighed, slightly annoyed. “Yes, tactfully put, Cassandra.”

“It is nice to meet you all,” Kyza muttered, in the most polite way she could. All of the people in this room had impressive, titles, save for herself. All I am is a figurehead to these people, Kyza repeated in her head. A figurehead, a figurehead. Do not think your opinion holds leverage in this room; you are a figurehead, nothing more. She straightened her posture and stood curtly while the others talked.

“I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good,” Cassandra reminded Kyza.

Leliana picked up on the thought. “Which means that we must approach the rebel mages for help-“

“And I still disagree,” Cullen objected. “The Templars could serve just as well.” _Does that make him a mage hater?_ Kyza wondered nervously. _Oh Maker, he is not going to like me_.

A strong sigh emitted from Cassandra. “We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark-“

“Might destroy us all”, Cullen emphasized. _He really likes interrupting people_ , Kyza thought. _I suppose a Commander must be used to such authority._ “Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it, so-“

"Pure speculation,” Leliana interrupted. F _or an Inquisition, the leaders here are quite disagreeable,_ Kyza couldn’t help but think.

“ _I_ was a Templar,” Cullen added, a look of frustration appearing on his face. “I know what they’re capable of.” _Ooooooh, that’s it._

“Unfortunately, neither group will speak to us yet.” Josephine chimed, ending the dispute. “The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition, and you specifically.”

Kyza was a little shocked. “They _still_ think I’m guilty?” She gawked to the ambassador. Kyza was never good at dealing with people who hated her, and the thought of an entire institution openly hating her-

“That is not the entirety of it any longer,” Josephine reassured. Her quill hand swayed in the candlelight, itching to continue writing. “Some are calling you, a mage” – she said that with bite in her voice - “the Herald of Andraste. That frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you.” Kyza gulped. The heaviness of the situation was beginning to burden her shoulders.

“Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt,” Cassandra pointed out.

“It limits our options,” Josephine maintained. “Approaching the Mages or the Templars is currently out of the question. All that is certain at this moment is that you are our Herald of Andraste.”

The weight continued to push on Kyza’s shoulders, before she blurted out; “How am I the Herald of Andraste? I’m just a mage from Ostwick! Or I was!” The fear, as much as she tried to hold it back, seeped through her voice. She was shaking again, this time more noticeably from before. She had been called the Herald plenty of times throughout the day, but the implications of that phrase had not hit her until now.

Cullen eyed the young Herald standing before him. She had black, cropped hair, with a slight point at the front. Her eyes were doe-like and full of fear. Her lips, small but pout, quivered whenever she said her title. The freckles that dotted her skin hid behind the tense crinkles that formed. There she was, shaking, scared of her own title. Cullen couldn’t blame her; it’s not every day that the second coming of Andraste appears, especially in this poor young mage. She didn’t ask for this. He sighed and pushed his hand through his hair, settling it on the back of his neck. As much as I sympathize for her, we need a strong symbol, he thought to himself. I wonder if she has the strength to do it.

“People saw what you did at the Temple…how you stopped the Breach from growing.” Cassandra explained. “They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste.”

Leliana continued. “Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading-“

“Which we have not,“ Cassandra blunted, clearly unaware of Kyza’s fear. Kyza began to gaze at her own feet.

Leliana glared at Cassandra, before picking up where she left off. “The point is, everyone is talking about you.”

Cullen wanted to hear from the Herald. She was a part of this conversation, after all, and it seemed like everyone was forgetting that. “That’s quite the title, isn’t it?” He asked, looking at the Inquisitor. “How do you feel about that?” He attempted to smile reassuringly at her, but it ended up coming off as a smirk, making Kyza feel uneasy.

“I-“ Kyza stammered as she took a step back. She wasn’t expecting them to ask her anything – she was just the figurehead, after all. Clearly. “I…I don’t want it, and I don’t believe it, but….I’ll take it if it makes people feel better.” She nodded as if to reaffirm what she just said.

The four others in the room seemed pleased by her response. “It is quite the title, but I have faith that you will carry it with honor,” Cassandra assured and clapped her hand on Kyza’s shoulder. Hopefully Cassandra couldn’t feel her shaking, but it was probable that she did.

“People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some, you’re that sign.” Leliana stated with a wave of her hand.

“And to others, a symbol of everything that’s gone wrong.” Josephine reminded, also unaware of the Herald’s nerves. To Kyza, it seemed that Leliana was the only one aware of her feelings, and potentially Cullen. But Cullen looked at her as if she was another solider to be commanded, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Kyza elected to remain silent at the comment.

“There is something you can do,” Leliana chimed with hope. Kyza reverted her attention to the spymaster. “A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far, and she knows those involved far better than I do. Her assistance would be invaluable.”

Kyza moved her hands to behind her back and clasped them; a nervous tick she had picked up to hide the anxiety her hands showed. When she noticed that all of the advisors were looking to her, as if expecting an answer, she quickly piped up; “I will do whatever it is you think it best I do.” While Kyza was pleased with the smoothness of her answers, the other four seemed underwhelmed.

“You know you have an opinion on this matter,” Leliana reminded. “You are just as much a part of this Inquisition as the rest of us. We are not here to dictate your actions, simply advise them. You are still our Herald of Andraste, after all.”

This caught Kyza off guard. “W-Why? I do not have the experience that you four do. I….I may be the ‘herald’, but I am no expert. I…I will do what you need me to do for the Inquisition, but…I feel ill fit for any other positions.” At this point, Kyza had started rocking back and forth on her heels – another nervous habit she had picked up.

Cassandra pinched the area between her eyebrows in frustration. “Clearly you need an adjustment phase,” she said condescendingly, and Kyza’s heart fell into her stomach. “You will go speak to Mother Giselle, Herald. She is located in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe, tending to those who have been hurt by the battle between Mages and Templars.”

“Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition while you are there,” Cullen asserted, leaning forward to catch Kyza’s attention. “You may choose to hold back your voice, but you are not voiceless.” His gaze intensified. “Nor are you powerless.”

Kyza felt like she had disappointed the Inquisition already, and it had only been one day. She was just trying to help, to be the figurehead she knew they wanted her to be, and yet they pushed her even farther. It unnerved her, especially Cassandra’s disappointment.

“I will go to the Hinterlands tomorrow then,” Kyza nodded towards Leliana, her hands fidgeting behind her back. “I hope….I hope I will not disappoint you all further. Forgive me.” With that, Kyza turned around and left the room in a hurry.

The moment the door left, a tension diffused from the room. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “Maker’s breath, are we sure she can lead this Inquisition?” His hand found its way to the table and gripped it.

“She was shaking when I felt her,” Cassandra sighed. “I cannot help but agree with you, Cullen.”

“Now now,” Josephine reassured the group, “She is simply nervous. I am sure anybody would be in her situation. Give her time to show her colors.”

“But how much time do we have?” Cullen argued, and scrutinized the ambassador. He had tried to sympathize with the Inquisitor earlier, but his patience was stunted. “We cannot sit around and wait for her colors to show! She is the symbol of the Inquisition!”

A silence washed over the group. Everyone knew Cullen was right, but none wanted to say it aloud.

Leliana coughed, and then began; “The Hinterlands will give her the time she needs. As much as you might loathe it, Commander, she is our symbol and we must try and accommodate her.” With that, she also left the room, noting that she had other business to attend to.

Cassandra and Josephine followed suit, until Cullen was left alone in the War Room. His hands gripped the table and his body leaned on them. He wasn’t sure if this mage would have the strength in her to lead the Inquisition. In fact, at this point, he almost certainly knew it. But did he have a choice?


	2. The Healer of Andraste

_Commander Cullen_ ,

_It has been two weeks since the Inquisitor’s arrival in the Hinterlands, and she is showing no signs of leaving anytime soon. I am aware that you and the other advisors have sent messages asking to hurry her up. I have passed them along, but I can’t say they have been regarded with any seriousness. She may be a nervous girl, but she has a lot more backbone than you’d think._

_If you think that the Inquisition at Haven is moved by the Herald, you should see the refugees here near Redcliffe. I’ve never seen a person more selfless than the Herald in my life. She has provided blankets for the cold, she has provided meat for the hungry, she has been constantly healing the wounds of the injured…..did you know that she focused on healing in her Tower days? The way she works her magic is like a miracle. Maybe she truly has been blessed by Andraste. Who knows?_

_She has managed to get the horses from Master Dennet and even managed to convince him to join the Inquisition’s forces._

_I will continue to try and probe her onwards for the Inquisition, but you may have to drag her out of here yourself._

_Scout Harding_

_\--_

Cullen read the report from his desk, his fingers pinching his eyebrows together. Maker, what was he supposed to make of this?

He stood up from his desk and began pacing the room, still reading the report in his hand. Cullen had been aware that the Mage and Templar conflict had forced many near Redcliffe out of their homes and into the Hinterlands, but he didn’t know how truly severe it was. What surprised him even more was the extent of Kyza’s help. Was it a good thing that she was putting so much work into these refugees? Cullen’s morality knew it was, but the Inquisition was in dire need of strong allies, not refugees, and she needed to get back to Haven to discuss this. Gazing intensely at the piece of paper, he noticed a tiny tremble cross the paper, before realizing the source of it. His hands. _Lyrium_.

Cullen sighed and returned to his desk, laying the paper on his desk. He was proud of his decision to break his lyrium addiction, but it had only been a few weeks, and he could tell it was ramping up. What started as mere headaches was now turning into body trembles, and from here on out it would only get worse. To distract himself, Cullen walked out of his office and strolled down to the battlements, where the recruits were training. Working out his tremors had worked so far, and he could see a recruit angling his swings wrong. This needed immediate attention.

\--

“Oh, Herald of Andraste! Thank you for everything! The Inquisition will live on!”

The man was gripping Kyza’s forearm tightly while she attempted to heal his wife. A large slice on her bicep, from a Templar. She was only one of the many that Kyza had healed while she was in the camp; exhausting work, but work that she believed needed to be done.

“Oh, please, I-I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Kyza stumbled, gently pushing the man away with her gripped forearm, “But I need this arm….to help your wife.”

“Oh, of course, milady,” the man blurted, before quickly letting go of her arm. He instead reached down to his wife and cupped her face, and she smiled back up at him.

The wife spoke up, for the first time since Kyza had begun healing her; “We have been here for weeks, and no group has attempted to help us as much as the Inquisition has. We cannot thank you enough.” Her smile brightened as she turned to face Kyza. “You have truly blessed us.”

Kyza had just finished treating the wife’s wound; although it was a large slash, it was not deep, and it was easily treatable by her skills. Throughout the two weeks that she had been here, people had been calling her similar phrases; blessed, gifted, Herald of Andraste, the Maker’s gift, and so on. Each time a phrase like that was uttered, it unnerved her, but she was slowly getting used to it. She stood up and smiled at the married couple.

“I have done all that I can for your wife’s wound,” She stated, with a hint of confidence; something that was found only when she was healing, or talking about it. “A week’s rest and an elfroot potion or two will fully restore it. My group has gathered a decent amount of elfroot for your camp, and given it to the campsite leader. If you need any, just ask him.”

“Kyza! Kyza!” She could hear someone yelling her name in the distance, so she waved goodbye to the couple and turned around. Of course, Scout Harding had chased her down to give her another report. As much as Kyza wasn’t used to being important, she couldn’t deny the slight joy that came from _being_ important. It was weird and abnormal and she didn’t deserve it at all, of course; but there was that little manifestation in the back of her head that couldn’t help herself.

Harding held the report up to Kyza, who took it and unrolled it with unease. For the last week, her advisors had been probing her to move quicker, to get back to Haven; she couldn’t just leave these refugees untreated, however, and she had prompted to stay and help them as much as she could before returned. That most likely angered them, but Kyza’s morality anchored her in place. Unrolling the report revealed exactly what Kyza expected; another report from Leliana urging her to get back to Haven.

A sigh escaped from Kyza’s lips as she rolled the report back up. “Tell Leliana that I have finished my business here and that I am heading back to Haven once all preparations are done.” All of the refugees in the camp with serious wounds had been treated, and Kyza knew that she couldn’t delay the inevitable much longer.

“Will do, Herald.” Harding nodded and ran back in the direction she came from, to the encampment up the hills. Kyza smiled to herself and began walking in the same direction, before she noticed her party walking towards her.

“Are you done healing all of Thedas yet, your Inquisitorialness?” Varric smirked, putting Bianca back in her sheath. Solas and Cassandra walked behind him, steadier but with more blood on their clothes. While Kyza was healing the refugees today, she had sent them to disband a Templar encampment near the refugees.

Kyza let out a laugh, and nodded towards the dwarf. “I’ve barely healed anybody, Varric. I did what I could. Thank you for taking care of the encampment for me.”

Solas smiled as he walked up to her. “Sending an elven apostate to take care of mage haters? A grand idea, Herald.” Solas was one of the most intelligent mages that Kyza had ever met, but that didn’t mean he was all serious. “We disbanded the group.”

“Thank you again,” Kyza uttered, before beckoning them to follow her up the hill. “We are going to head back to Haven as soon as Harding finishes preparations.” The group all sighed with relief; it seemed like they had been here forever, picking elfroot and picking _off_ Mages and Templars, and the idea of a warm meal and bed made all of them brighten.

The party continued up the hills in silence before settling in the Inquisition encampment. They had a few hours to kill before they could set off, so everybody disbanded to do their own thing; Varric polished Bianca, Solas went off to find an artifact he had been talking about the entire trip. Cassandra, however, remained, and sat down beside Kyza on the logs by the campfire.

“You are….quite proficient at healing, Herald,” she mumbled, staring into the campfire. “Where does one gain that sort of experience?”

Kyza shrugged off the compliment, having received it so much recently. “When the Ostwick circle disbanded, I didn’t really have anywhere to go….my friends and I were suddenly apostates. We had never been outside the Circle in our entire _lives_ , and yet we were forced to live on our own.” Kyza gave another shrug, her voice softening a little. “I had studied healing magic in the Circle, it was my main focus. I thought it would be the most…..useful. Once the Circle fell, it turned out I was right.”

Cassandra nodded and listened intently, maybe a little too intently. It made Kyza uncomfortable, but she chalked that up to the Seeker’s overly blunt attitude, and continued. “I traveled with a couple of friends aimlessly, just trying to survive for the first couple months. We ran into Templar groups occasionally, and a couple of my friends perished…” She trailed off momentarily, before picking back up again; “Eventually it was just two of my friends and I, Banwick and Isha. And eventually they disappeared too.” Kyza had begun fiddling her hands, clearly unnerved by the story she was telling.

Cassandra clasped a hand to her shoulder. “I am sorry about this,” she murmured, with as much emotion as Kyza had ever heard from her. It wasn’t much at all, but it was a step for the Seeker.

 Kyza threw her hands up in the air quickly. “B-But you didn’t ask me my life story,” She swiftly added, and rested her hands on her knees. “I knew a lot of healing spells from Ostwick but had never really put them in practice until I was released in the world. They got plenty of practice there. Healing refugees is something I’m quite comfortable with.”

The Herald stood up from the log and swiped her hands together in an attempt to slap off the dust. “You’ll have to excuse me, Cassandra. Healing those refugees has drained me, and I would like to lie down before we head back.” She had attempted to say this with confidence, but it came out weak. The idea of returning to Haven, returning to a world where pressure was constantly on her, made her fearful. And telling the story of her friends had made her somber.

“Of course, Herald,” Cassandra replied, and stood up with Kyza. “I did not mean to delay your rest.”

Kyza had begun to walk away, towards her tent, but remembered something and turned back to the Seeker. “If you would….call me Kyza, please.” She pleaded. “I don’t….. _know_ how I feel about this Herald business….I may be the symbol, but I’d…..I’d like to think that I’m still me.”

“O-oh,” Cassandra stumbled, surprised by the proposition. “I…am sorry. I did not realize. Have a good rest, Kyza.”

Kyza nodded and opened the flap to her tent, before retreating behind its tan confines.

Cassandra watched the flap close, before slowly moving back to her log and sitting down. From her pouch, she pulled out a piece of parchment, a quill, and an inkwell. She laid the inkwell on the log, uncorked it, dipped her quill, and began writing.

 _Commander Cullen_ ,

_Gathered new intel on the Herald. Send scouts out to look for apostates ‘Bandwick’ and ‘Isha’ – friends of the Herald from Ostwick Circle._

_Her healing skills are remarkable, but I am unsure of her offensive capabilities. She only battled with us occasionally, and seemed to waiver often. Assign a mage to her at once and test out her destructive magics._

_She is slowly gaining confidence, but much has to be done. I have faith in her. She truly wants to help out the Inquisition, as weak and lost as she may seem at times._

_May the Maker grant us strength._

_Cassandra_


	3. A Nervous Wreck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I disappeared for a few weeks. Distractions. I'm back with full force.

The way back to Haven was harder than the way there. Kyza’s entire body ached, with the draining fatigue of having healed an entire village; and due to her lack of horseback riding experience, her thighs were chafing and bruising. _How is everybody else riding these bloody things without a complaint?_ She thought tiredly to herself, while gazing at her fellow companions. Cassandra was, of course, riding her horse with such expertise, she might have been riding one out of the womb; Varric seemed well adjusted and Solas simply kept to himself. She didn’t complain out loud, of course; knowing full well she was the leader of the Inquisition, she couldn’t be whining about something as simple as riding a horse. But the pain was still there, and Kyza couldn’t hide it visibly from her companions.

“Not used to horses, missy?” Varric prodded sarcastically. “They’re pretty tough. Right up there with high dragons and giants.”

“Oh shut up,” Kyza groaned, and leaned over to slap the dwarf in the arm. She missed, of course, and almost fell off her horse from the weight shift.

Varric cackled warmly, while Kyza scuffled in an attempt to regain her composure. “The Inquisitor almost falls off her horse while attempting to slap the handsomest dwarf in Thedas. Now that’ll be a story to tell.”

“You are the worst kind of person,” she mumbled while tightening her grip on the horse. Being in Haven made her nervous and a fumbling idiot; being out in the wilderness, with nothing but her companions and a task to do, made her feel more at ease, more confident. She was warming up to these people whom she traveled along with, and she hoped they felt the same. Aside from her falling off horses and her stuttering problem, she could be pretty nice, she thought at least.

“Are you two done goofing off?” Cassandra chimed, in her usual serious tone. “As _charming_ as the dwarf can be”- Varric winked at the Inquistor at this point, which made her giggle childishly – “the Inquistor has a lot to think about. When we get back, they expect you to lead us towards a compromise with the Chantry. After that, a decision with the Templars or the Mages. As much as you think you don’t hold power, you do, and we will want to hear your opinion.” At that, Cassandra tightened her reins and trotted a bit ahead of the group, leaving Kyza to stew in her thoughts.

Kyza gulped at the remembrance of the dilemma. She had to make this decision? Why was the burden placed on her? It confused Kyza and frightened her, the idea of alienating another group against her. While she had swayed Mother Gizelle to her side on this trip, the Chantry was still largely against the Inquisition, and specifically her. That frightened her for more than one reason, but on top of that there could be mages or templars whom hated her as well?

She tried to push the thoughts away, but they intruded her conscience like poison spikes. _I can’t run away anymore,_ she thought with dread. _I’m important to people now. I have to make a decision._

\--

When they arrived back at Haven, a crowd had circled the gates to welcome them back. It had been a month since the Inquisition had seen the Herald of Andraste after all, and their symbol was needed for morale.

Kyza wasn’t expecting it when the gates opened. She wasn’t expecting the cheers from the crowd, the men who fell to their knees in prayer at her very existence. The power she had was unnerving, but she was beginning to savor the feeling. She had never in her life had power before, much less to this extent, and it was somewhat nice. Cassandra ordered the people back to their duties, ending the moment for Kyza and reminding her that the pressure was on again. As Kyza slid off of her horse, a scout arrived at her feet with important news.

“Inquisitor!” He started, panting a little. “Your advisors would like to meet with you in the War Room. As soon as possible, they said.”

An audible sigh escaped from her as she handed off the reigns of her horse. “Never a break when it comes to the Inquisition,” she murmured, before walking past the scout. Of course there was no break for Kyza. The advisors probably viewed her time in the Hinterlands as a waste, after all, and wanted her on the next mission stat.

As she walked towards the Chantry, her legs were turning into jelly. She hadn’t walked in hours, and the bruises on her thighs were becoming very troublesome. Cassandra noticed immediately, and reared up next to the Inquisitor and took her arm over her shoulder.

“I am sorry,” Kyza quickly gasped, appreciating the relief that Cassandra gave her. “I must look like a fool.”

“For someone who has never ridden a horse before, I heard very little complaint from you,” Cassandra stated, earning a smirk from Kyza. _At least I’m doing my job right_ , Kyza thought. “It will take time to get used to.” Kyza grumbled a slight complaint as they walked into the dimly lit Chantry, and then the even dimmer War Room. Cassandra let go of her companion and pushed open the doors with a loud creak before they entered.

Of course, there stood her three advisors, in the same position as before. It was as if nothing had moved in Haven since she left to the Hinterlands, that time froze here when she wasn’t present. And she was proven right when the three immediately started bickering.

“Welcome back, Inquisitor,” Leliana gestured, with a bit of a frown. “It took you long enough, assuming you read my reports.”

“Do not blame the Inquisitor for her actions,” Josephine chimed in, much to the relief of Kyza. The pressure was already on her like a vice grip, and her confidence was slowly unfolding. “Thanks to her work with the refugees, our recruitment from that area has surged; and faith in the Inquisition is high throughout Ferelden after word of her actions spread. And what we need most, as you know, is good word.”

Much to her own surprise, Kyza actually smiled. That her work, deemed unnecessary by her advisors before, was now working to their advantage. She glanced at the Commander, her smile beaming, and his response was to immediately look away shyly, which wiped away her smile. _Of course, serious, I have to be serious._

_Time to be serious._

\--

The meeting concluded with clear instructions for Kyza; she was to go to Val Royeaux, the capital of the Chantry, and show them that she was not a monster. Except for that she was nervous around people, and she was a mage walking into the home of mage-haters, and everybody hated her anyways. This would be easy.

And, of course, throughout the meeting she was a mess; they asked her opinion on the trip to Val Royeaux, she bumbled out an answer, everybody was once again displeased with her nervousness and lack of confidence, and the Commander looked at her like she was a failure. All in all, a bad meeting for her.

As the advisors were leaving the War Room, Kyza held an arm out to stop Josephine from moving forward, much to her surprise. “Josephine, c-can I have a word?” She started, her nerves still clearly showing in her voice.

“Of course,” Josephine nodded, and led them to her office, not five steps away from the room. Her walk was elegant and composed, as one might expect; and with Kyza’s hobbling behind Josephine due to her bruises, it looked like a farmer leading his donkey.

Once in her office, Kyza looked away from the Ambassador and started rambling. “Listen, Josephine, I’m not good with people….” She started with flailing arms, with Josephine clearly understanding where this was going. “I-I never talked to people much in the Circle, and if I’m expected to be the leader of this Inquisition, then…well….I need to get better at having a presence, at talking and being important and stuff.” She huffed out the last words of her ramble, before finally gazing at Josephine. “Do you….do you think you could help me?”

An awkward silence hung in the room, before Josephine grinned at the Inquisitor. “Why, of course! I would love to help the Herald in this way!” She almost seemed to be hopping in place, too excited for this task. “First, I have to help you with your stance; you are slouching like an old farmer, and it’s rather disturbing really…”

Kyza groaned. Of course, Josephine wanted to fix every little thing about Kyza. And Kyza would most likely hate it the entire time, and it would be a big struggle for everybody. But, as much as she didn’t want to do this, she had to, for the Inquisition, and her morality forced her to stand up and straighten her shoulders like Josephine asked.

\--

 _Always reports, more damn reports, the reports never end_ , Cullen thought as he signed off on another piece of parchment. He set it down in his pile of completed reports, which was dwarfed in size by the incomplete ones. The stack seemed to glare at him, knowing he was weak, _you need to finish your reports Cullen, you don’t want to fail the Inquisition do you-_

Cullen rammed his fists on his desk with a growl, a paper from the stack falling off from the force. The lyrium withdrawals were getting worse now, he was almost hallucinating. “I need to take a walk,” the commander murmured begrudgingly. He walked briskly towards the door, his feet stomping on the cold hardwood floor, and left his office with a slam of the door.

Cullen could hear no activity in the small town, and he remembered how late it was. Of course he had stayed up too late, again. _Always reports, more damn reports_. His thoughts were racing again, a low headache was starting to form in the front of his skull. Frustrated and pained, Cullen gripped the bridge of his nose between his fingers, in a frail attempt to ease the sudden pain.

He had to start walking, he knew he had to, otherwise he would be planted right in front of his office focusing on the pain. Automatically, his feet started walking in the direction of the Inquisition headquarters – The Chantry. Maybe it was because that was where he spent most of his time, in the War Room, bickering with the other advisors over minute details; or maybe it was a habit from his Templar days, being drawn to the holy grounds. Even though the Commander had chosen to distance himself from the Order, he could never truly distance himself from the Maker, nor did he truly want to. It was a safe place for him, and always will be.

The freshly fallen snow crunched under his feet as he made his way up the cobblestone pathway. A light hint of green sparkled on the snow, emitting from the massive Breach in the sky. The Breach that had yet to be closed. Another growl escaped from Cullen’s throat as his thoughts once again trailed to his problems. _The Breach still has to be closed, all of Thedas depends on it. And the reports are stacking up, again, because of your laziness-_

Feelings his thoughts escalate from the lyrium, Cullen quickened his pace towards the Chantry, his hands reaching out for the grand doors before he was even close to the building. His face was crinkled as his palms hit the wooden entrance, and he pushed it open with immediacy. No sounds, no people. Much like Haven, the sacred hall was quiet.

Except – was that a small voice he heard? In the other room?

Instinctively, Cullen followed the trail of the voice, as it slowly got louder;

“….are those….wander….sin…..despairing….lost….forever…..but the one who repents, who has faith….”

The words were becoming clearer. _Was someone reciting the Canticle of Transfigurations?_

The voice led him to a door, slightly creaked open, and he peered into it. In front of a statue of Andraste, there lay a woman, tall yet thin, on her knees, with short, black hair – _Kyza?_

An audible gasp escaped Cullen, loud enough to startle the Inquisitor out of prayer. “W-who goes there?” She squeaked, the fear weaving into her voice. Her hands were now on the ground as she attempted to stand up and she reached for her staff in self defense.

“N-no! It’s me! C-Cullen, I mean, the Commander, I mean –“ Cullen burst into the room, his arms held forward and palms spread wide. “I’m sorry, did I –I didn’t mean to interrupt you-“

“Oh I-I’m sorry! I just got scared and reached for my staff and”

“No, it’s ok! I interrupted you, and, would you like to continue, I can leave-“

“No, please.” Both the Commander and Kyza realized the ridiculousness of their conversation, and Kyza sighed and let out a small chuckle. “I was just in the middle of a chant.” She gulped, and amid the multiple candles and the torch on the wall, it was easy for the Commander to see a blush appearing on her cheeks. There was one probably on his as well, and he could feel the heat radiating from his face.

The shock of the entire situation hit Cullen again like a druffalo. _A mage reciting the Canticle of Transfigurations?_ His mouth gaped slightly, and he could feel himself sweating under the armor. “Y-you know Transfigurations?”

Kyza remembered the Commander’s Templar past, and recognized his shock, like many others had had before. “I’m a strong believer in the Maker. I know, it’s surprising. But I’ve been once since I was born, and it…stuck.” A small smile lifted the corner of her lips. “There are a lot of mages out there that believe in the Maker, as hard as that is to register.” She leaned back against the wall and watched the Commander’s reaction.

Cullen pinched the bridge on his nose again and sighed. “I didn’t mean….I’m just surprised.” His hand fell to his side. “I’ve never seen many Mages pray before, and not a verse so…obscure.”

“It’s my favorite verse,” Kyza replied, shifting her weight. “It reminds me of home.” Her face dropped slightly. “But anyways. Would you like to-“

A sharp pain hit Cullen’s head, and he stumbled slightly onto the wall. The headache was spiking. He strongly inhaled and his hands clasped his head, as he faltered.

Kyza rushed up to him, her staff now in hand. “Cullen, are you ok? Do you need help?”

Cullen attempted to stand up straight again, with little success. “I’m fine. Just a bad headache that took me by surprise.” He pushed off the wall and leaned heavily on it.

“Let me help you.” Kyza pleaded, and before she knew it her hand was on Cullen’s temple and a light blue aura radiated from it.

Almost immediately, the pain began to ebb away, and Cullen found himself gazing at the mage as she healed his migraine. “How are you doing that?” He asked, astonished at the skill she was showing.

“I know a lot of healing spells,” she replied, her hand moving towards Cullen’s forehead. “It’s what I spent my time in the Circle studying. I thought it would be the most helpful to know.”

Another minute passed in silence, with Cullen focusing on the relief that Kyza was bringing him. Soon, the pain was gone, and Kyza was taking her hand off of Cullen’s forehead. They stood there, looking each other in the eyes for a few moments, with Cullen noticing the warmth in her features for the first time – and he turned away quickly, embarrassed.

“Thank you…for doing that.” He murmured, putting his hand to his forehead in fascination. “Right. Well.” The Commander stood there awkwardly, forgetting why he was even here in the first place.

Thank the Maker, Kyza brought him back down to earth. “Would you like to chant with me?” She inquired, with warmth, falling to her knees slowly.

Cullen smiled at the request. “Of course. That would be good.”

The two began where she left off on Transfigurations, praying under the statue of Andraste, and both felt peace flow into their being.


	4. Val Royeaux

“Focus, Kyza, you need to focus on the target,” Solas yelled across the training grounds, watching as a lightning bolt fly sky high, and not at the target it was meant for.

“I’m _trying_ ,” Kyza exasperated, sweat pouring down her body. Healing numbed your body, drained her body of energy; elemental magic made her bones ache and her body feel like it was being pulled apart. Much worse, in her opinion.

It wasn’t like she was completely inept at ‘offensive’ magic, as she liked to call it. She could do minor spells, like lightning bolts and small fireballs. But she definitely wasn’t good at it, and Solas was ramping up the intensity on her training much quicker than she could handle. Already, she was trying to do a chain lightning spell, requiring intense focus on her part, and Maker, why couldn’t she just heal people?

Her focus intensified on the target, far away from her. She felt the magic ebb from her fingertips, amplified by her staff, and she thrust her arm at the target –

-and once again, it flew high above the target. _Maker’s breath, this is hard_.

Solas sighed and began walking in her direction. She was sitting down now. Her brow was sweaty and her breaths were short. A slight pang of guilt rang in his chest. He didn’t want to push her, but in the short time they had been traveling together, he had already found her to be incredibly intelligent and capable. Their conversations about the Fade and her inquiries into his journeys delighted them both. But he was also tired of being the only mage to deal with their enemies. And the Commander asked him to do this.

“It’s not about squinting at the target and hoping your bolt will land there,” Solas chuckled, as he strolled up to the Inquisitor. “With lightning magic, aim is more like a current. And you direct that current.” He pulled out his staff and aimed at the target, as if to show her. “The lightning will want to go in other directions – such as into the air, as you may have already noticed.” Kyza couldn’t help but smirk at his statement. “But you have to pull it back, restrict it – control the current.” Solas’s brow creased, and he shot out a lightning bolt at the target. Kyza watched as it hit the target dead center, and as multiple bolts shot out at the targets behind it.

“You’re good at this, Solas,” Kyza remarked, looking up at the elf. “How did you manage to teach yourself all of this? The Fade is a neat place, but I can’t imagine a spirit helping you learn your aiming techniques.”

She earned a smile from the bald elf. “I have my ways,” He teased, before sticking a hand out to her. “But that’s for another time. You need to keep trying.”

Kyza groaned, as loud as she could. No one was around to see the Herald be frustrated, after all, so she was going to complain all she wanted until the damn lightning bolt hit the target.

\--

Val Royeaux was the most beautiful thing Kyza had ever seen.

The entire city was painted in a wonderful shade of sky blue, with scarlet tapestries seeming to line the sky. The towers that circled the town center seemed to be made of ivory, and vines crawled up the towers with precision. Stalls and boutiques surrounded the center, selling goods that Kyza could never dream of. This was the city of the Maker, this was the city that she had read about in volumes in her time in the Circle, the city with beauty that the words did no justice for –

“Come, Inquisitor, we have a job to do.” Cassandra’s voice rang like a gavel, sweeping Kyza out of her thoughts.

“I’m sorry, Cassandra, it’s just that – this is the city, the city of Andraste! This is where the Divine lives, or-, er, would live, if, yknow.” Her thoughts drifted to the events at the Conclave, and she couldn’t help but eye her left hand, the mark, somberly.

Cassandra cleared her throat, to ease the awkward air. “It is a beautiful city, indeed. If only we had the time to see its beauty.”

“Aw come on, let Nursey admire the view,” Varric interjected, waving a hand at the walls of the city. “Haven looks like a rat pit compared to this. And the Ostwick Circle, probably worse.” Kyza chuckled at Varric’s comments, while Cassandra simply marched forward through the city.  

The group was stopped very quickly by a crowd, surrounding a mother of the Chantry.

“Oh Maker, what is it now,” Varric grumbled, as the group joined the crowd.

“Good people of Val Royeaux, here me!” The mother bellowed, in a thick Orlesian accent. “Together we mourn our divine. Her naïve and beautiful heart silenced by treachery! You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more.”

All eyes seemed to turn onto Kyza, and most had anger in them. The mother motioned at the Inquisitor and continued speaking.

“Behold, the so-called Herald of Andraste! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell. We say, this is a false prophet! The Maker would send no mage in our hour of need!”

The mother became quiet, as if expecting a response from the Herald. She had none. The anxiety of the situation was on her like a vice grip, the idea of the Chantry hating her, the Maker’s people _hating her_ , it was too much.

“We have come to talk, before this madness descends any further,” Cassandra responded, as if on cue. “Please, mother, do not spread these lies!”

The mother shook her head and motioned to her right. “It is already too late!” A group of Templars walked up on the stage and took their place next to the sister. “The Templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this “Inquisition”, and the people will be safe once more!”

“The Templars have rejoined the Chantry?” Kyza questioned towards Cassandra, who shook her head in disbelief. _That couldn’t possibly be._

The group refocused when a large _smack_ was heard, and the mother was on the ground. A large man, with balding, greying hair, stood over her, fist clenched.

“Lord Seeker Lucius.” Cassandra stated, her gaze on the man. “It is imperative that we speak with-“

“You will not address me.” His words were stone cold, and Cassandra stood still, baffled. “Lord Seeker?”

He turned to face Cassandra, his demeanor calm yet forceful. “Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste’s prophet. You should be ashamed.” The Lord Seeker turned to face the entire crowd. “You should all be ashamed! The Templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages! You are the ones who have failed. You who’d leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear. If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny that demands respect here is mine.”

Lucius strode towards Kyza, his speech focusing on her. “You have nothing. No influence, no power, and certainly no holy purpose.” Kyza was shaking slightly, a mix of fear and anger. She looked like an angry puppy, about to yelp at her owner for not feeding her.

“You are pathetic.” The seeker spat on her feet before turning towards the Templars. “Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!”

On his signal, the rest of the Templars marched out of the gates, and soon the crowd dispersed.

“I see craziness runs in all Seekers,” Varric smirked, winking at Cassandra. “If I had known all of you were that batshit I would’ve confessed everything about Hawke in a heartbeat.”

“Not _now,_ Varric,” Cassandra groaned to the sky. “Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone _mad_? Is the entire world falling apart at the seems?”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Kyza mumbled, her voice still slightly shaky. Solas noticed the insecurity visibly showing on Kyza and put a hand on her shoulder.

“He is a fool. Do not take his words to heart. He has seen nothing of you yet.” He spoke with a coldness that floored Kyza.

“I hope you’re right. Even I believe some of the words he said.” _You are pathetic_. The words rang in Kyza’s head like a hollow bell.

“Go prove him wrong.” He nudged her in the direction of the stage, where the mother was groaning audibly in pain. Blood could be seen pooling from her nose.

Kyza looked at the elf, confused. “She hates me! Why would she want me to help her?”

“Just try. Go.” He nudged her again. Slowly, she started walking towards the stage. Her anxiety was clearly drawn on her face. The entire situation was absurd, but Solas was right, she wanted to help, and her morality was telling her she should help, so she would help the blasted mother.

Kyza began creaking up the small stairs, catching the mother’s attention and causing her to turn her head. “Do not come any closer, apostate,” the mother hissed from her lying position. Her hand was clenching her nose, attempting to ease the flow of blood. “I have already been embarrassed in front of all. Do not make my pain worse.”

The mage found herself turning around, looking at Solas, who shot her a reassuring look. She turned back around, and stuck her palms out gently towards the mother. “I want to help. Your nose….it is bleeding. I-I can heal it.” She began to kneel next to the mother.

She attempted to protest, wanting nothing to do with the heretic, but the pain was becoming harsh, and there were no one else around to help. Begrudgingly, she accepted the help, but she kept her fangs out.

“You are not the Herald of Andraste,” she spat. Kyza’s hands began to close in on her face, a light green aura emitting for her palms. “You cannot truly believe that you are.”

“I….” Kyza swallowed, carefully calculating her words, before continuing. “I don’t know. I don’t think I am, Mother, but I don’t know.” She was sweating, and Maker blasted, she just wanted to help this woman.

A minute passed in silence, before the mother erupted once more. “You _killed_ her.” The mother was glaring at the Inquisitor, scowling in both pain and anger. “The Divine was our one hope in this conflict, and you killed her. You can’t be a second coming of Andraste, not after that.”

Kyza was taken aback, her hands jolted out of her spell. “I-I didn’t-“ she stumbled again, shocked and surprised. It was almost like she was Cassandra’s prisoner again, with everyone hating her…..

“She is dead, mage. She is dead and you are alive. And I cannot, with all of the Maker’s blessing, believe anything else.” The mother’s nose had stopped bleeding, and the pain was weaker. She leaned forward, wiping the blood on her sleeve, before standing up. “Your healing is appreciated, mage, but do not think I am not weary of you. I know your kind.” The mother walked away, off the stage and into a hidden alleyway.

She was stunned in position. On her knees, her palms against the wooden stage, Kyza gasped for air. They thought she murdered the Divine. They thought she blew up the Conclave, and killed everyone in it. Kyza had known that people thought this, but never before had it been thrown so blatantly in her face, by people who didn’t even _know_ her.

Here she was, in the most beautiful city in Orlais, surrounded by beautiful hues of turquoise and scarlet, and tints of gold dancing across the building along with the beautiful, flowing vines. And she was choking back her sobs.


	5. Reports

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but one I felt slightly necessary and that I kinda liked the idea of.

_Spymaster:_

_Our inquiries into the names “Banwick” and Isha” bore little fruit. We’ve discovered that there were two mages with the same name from Ostwick Circle. Further digging shows that the two were romantically involved during their time at the Circle. Other than that, most of the information seems irrelevant. Both came from farmer families, originally from Tevinter but settled in Ostwick._

_The scattered pieces of the former Ostwick Circle make it hard for us to locate more information on these mages, but we will keep searching. Will send word if more information becomes available._

_Scout Yvsse_

_(Report copied for use of Commander.)_

\--

_Leliana,_

_The events at Val Royeaux went worse than hoped for. The Templars have left the Chantry, led by Lord Seeker Lucius. The people were rallied in the square, listening to the mother speak lies about the Inquisition, when the Lord Seeker went and punched her in the face! Can you believe it? But I digress (and my apologies). The Order is being led in a direction that I cannot confirm. Afterwards, the Inquisitor healed the mother, as our Herald would do._

_As they were leaving the city, Grand Enchanter Fiona approached the Inquisitor. How she went unseen before is beyond us, but I imagine that the head of the mage rebellion has her tactics for averting keen eyes. The mages are meeting in Redcliffe, and have offered the Inquisition to meet them there._

_Also, Val Royeaux is absolutely breathtaking! But I’m sure you already knew that._

_Maker guide us,_

_Scout Lethe_

_(Report copied for use of Commander.)_

_\--_

_Cullen,_

_I am sure you have already heard of the events that transpired through Leliana’s scouts, but I am unsure about how much you heard._

_Kyza is in poor spirits. The events at Val Royeaux have left her dejected. I fear that she is starting to believe the words that her enemies use. I am unsure of how to make her feel better, but I am sure you can come up with a better idea, Commander. Perhaps she needs a reminder of why she is part of the Inquisition in the first place?_

_We are currently headed towards the Storm Coast. We should be there in a week’s time._

_Cassandra_

_\--_

_Commander,_

_I asked the knife ear how his training was going with the Herald. He states that it is going strongly and that the Inquisitor’s abilities grow every day. What that means? I don’t know, he wouldn’t elaborate and I’m not a mage._

_Lieutenant Hayder_

_\--_

_Lieutenant Hayder,_

_Don’t ever call Solas a knife ear again. He is as much a part of this Inquisition as you are, and you will respect that, or else I will have you dropped._

_Commander_

_\--_

_Commander,_

_Cassandra told me it was about time that I wrote my own reports…so here I go, I guess? Well, I thought that the name ‘The Storm Coast’ would just be a moniker, but wow….we have been here for days and I haven’t seen the sun. Is this what Ferelden is like? It smells like wet dog here, constantly._

_But anyways, sorry. I’ve managed to recruit a Friend of Red Jenny’s on my way to the Storm Coast, and the intel should be helpful to our cause. Sera claims to hate nobles, and I really don’t like nobles too, so I guess that’s a good thing? I get a feeling you don’t like nobles, either, Commander, so this should be good. I’ve also recruited the Bull’s Chargers, and they are very eccentric characters. I’ve never even met a Qunari before, believe it or not! His horns are HUGE! No wonder why they call him the Iron Bull. His axe is bigger than my entire body. He’s sitting here, and he requests that you have 30 caskets of Ferelden Brew waiting when we get back._

_I’ve been doing alright in battle. Cassandra and Bull have been doing a good job of shielding me, and my blows aren’t perfect, but I’m getting better, I promise. I know you set up Solas to train me, and it has been going well, I think. It’s much easier to cast lightning spells when everything is covered in blasted rain, at least._

_We’ve caught some sign of the Wardens, but nothing to follow up on. Darkspawn came and attacked us, so we covered their holes right up. It’s felt, good, really._

_We should be back within two weeks or so, I can’t guarantee anything. I can’t wait to get out of this rainy blighthole._

_See you around, Commander._

_Kyza (The Inquisitor?)_


	6. Chapter 6: Moving Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School started and I got busy. I also got demotivated, as I feel like I'm not a very good writer. But I got bored, and I realized that I can't get better without practicing. So here it is. 
> 
> If you have constructive criticism to offer, I'm always listening. Thanks for everything.

Commander Cullen watched the gates as the horn blew, signaling the arrival of the Inquisition. As per usual, a fairly large crowd surrounded the opening gates, with a few falling down to their knees and crying to the sky. _That’s what you get for setting up camp with the Herald of Andraste in a former cult town_ , Cullen thought, slightly amused. Winter was just starting to set in, and the crisp air was nipping at his ears, turning them red. He wondered how the worshippers ignored the frigid cold, but his thoughts were stopped as the gates fully opened. Cassandra was leading the rest of the group, with the Inquisitor not far behind. Not surprising; the Herald is a very nervous person who is still not used to all of this. Nevertheless, soon the crowds began to surround her horse, before Cassandra swiftly swatted them off and ordered them back to their duties.

It wasn’t until the crowds were gone that Cullen got a good glimpse of Kyza. His brow creased immediately in concern. Even with a thick cloak on, she was noticeably thinner; her hair was growing longer, now at a point where it covered her eyes, and it looked greasy and thin; and, worst of all, she looked defeated. Cullen was reminded of the letter that Cassandra had sent him. She was shaken and demoralized.

At that moment, he almost felt anger towards her.  Surely the leader of the Inquisition should not be unnerved by something so petty as what happened in Val Royeaux. Yet; he remembers his days in Kirkwall, when Meredith would chastise him for something so small as taking pity on a mage. A grimace appeared on his face. Those days destroyed him emotionally, and he coped by directing his emotions towards mages, and his hate of them. Cullen supposed this was her coping mechanism, or rather the lack of one.

Again, he thinks of Cassandra’s report. She had mentioned that he could help cheer Kyza up. What in Andraste’s name could he do? He’s good at raising morale for troops, not making the Inquisitor feel better. Maybe he could think of something later. But for now, he stays, observing the motions of the Inquisitor.

\--

Once the worshippers had scattered away from Kyza, she slowly and wearily dismounted her horse with the help of Iron Bull. He reached his hand out and she gently took it, quivering slightly. She felt damp to her bones and her thighs were bruised from the journey. “These last few weeks have been a bit of a shitshow, boss,” He quipped while gently lowering her off of the mount. “Maybe tagging along with you wasn’t the best idea in the world, but damn if the pay isn’t good. Doesn’t hurt that a fine looking lass like you is in charge of this whole show.” He winked at her as he let go of her hand.

Kyza immediately blushed and gave him a light shove, only to be met with such strength that she almost lost her balance. Bull held out an arm to steady her. “Well, this fine looking lass clearly needs some warmth, food and sleep,” she bemused. She then smiled weakly, thanked Bull for his assistance and made her way to her tent. On her way, she glanced at her surroundings; there was Herritt, bent over an anvil, dutifully working on new weapons for the army; there was Master Dennet, quickly assembling the expedition’s horses and moving them to the stables; and there was Cullen, standing on the steps of the Chantry, whispering to an agent about something or another. Another day in Haven, she supposed, just as she opened the flap to her tent.

While Kyza had had much time to reflect on everything, she didn’t have the true serenity necessary until now. Val Royeaux, the darkspawn at the Coast, the missing Grey Wardens, the Breach in general. _What a fucking disaster_ , she mused with a smirk. Normally she hated swearing; she found the words felt bitter in her mouth, as if the Maker was souring her himself. The Maker, however, had provided her with this disaster. Kyza figured she could throw some of it back.  

She had just settled behind her desk when a soldier came rushing in, to her surprise. “Inquisitor,” he stated, fist across his chest. “The bath is ready for you in the private commons.”

She was just about to pen out a report to Leliana, but put her quill down before she could even begin. “What?” Kyza inquired, surprised at the gesture. “I did not order for a bath. Are you sure it’s for me?”

“Yes, Inquisitor,” the soldier replied with confidence. “The Commander ordered that we prepare a hot bath for you at once. There will also be a meal delivered to you there soon. Commander orders you to take the day off.”

Kyza was baffled by the entire situation. It feels like her advisers are constantly pushing her to go faster, and now they are ordering days off? She, however, wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Well, alright. Thank you.” She murmured, and waved him away. He promptly saluted and strode out of the tent.

Her confusion was soon forgotten when she realized that she was about to have her first bath in months. _Months!_ This was a luxury she felt like she didn’t deserve, but hell if she wasn’t going to love it. Quickly, she stripped off her damp cloak and set it aside, before walking out of her tent and in the direction of the private commons.

They were located in a nook between the Chantry and the mountains, nestled behind the tavern. On her way there, many soldiers seemed pleased to see the Herald among their presence. It warmed her heart to see her actions meaning something to some people, even if she felt depressed herself. Kyza was soon in the private commons, where a maid ushered her into one of the rooms. Low and behold, there was a bathtub full of water, with fresh steam billowing from the surface. She beamed at the sight of such a luxury. She’d have to thank the Commander later for this.

\--

_Commander,_

_I cannot thank you enough for the bath and meal. It was quite a pleasant surprise! It warmed my spirits greatly. I’ll have to find some way to truly thank you._

_I have a request, actually. Meet me at the tavern for lunch tomorrow after the War table? I have some questions I’d like answered and I would also like some nice conversation, I guess. I know you’re busy (and so am I), but I figure it would be nice to talk. I get it if you’re too busy though._

_The Inquisitor_

_\--_

Cullen looked at the hastily-scrawled note at his desk, aided by a candle. He couldn’t help but blush a little at the proposition. The Inquisitor wanted to meet and _talk?_ Wasn’t that unprofessional? Besides, surely he was too busy. The Templars were proving to be much harder to convince than he had thought, and the new recruits were not improving as fast as he had hoped. He leaned back in his chair, the rigidness of his armor scraping against the wood, and sighed.

Still, though, he considered the note. It wouldn’t hurt to get to know the Inquisitor a little better, he figured, and maybe he could find a little time to spare. She had been gone on a campaign for weeks, after all, and they had barely talked. But he was bad at small talk. Would the conversation go well?

Cullen stopped himself. Why was he thinking so much about this? _This is silly_ , he thought to himself disapprovingly. He didn’t understand why he was so flustered about this. She was a fine enough person. This isn’t a big deal. Without much thought he picked up his quill and scribbled a note, and in a few minutes it was on its way to Kyza’s desk. _Simple enough_. But why did it feel so complicated?

\--

“I’m glad to see you back, Herald,” Leliana welcomed Kyza, as she walked into the War Room. Kyza crossed her arms and pushed her newfound bangs behind her ear.

“I’m glad to be out of The Storm Coast, at least,” Kyza joked, seemingly in well spirits. The War Room still made her incredibly nervous, but after the Commander’s kind gesture last night, she was better able to deal with it.

“Let us begin,” Josephine stated, and closed the doors to the room. “Clearly the Chantry is still not supportive of our cause, and we have now discovered what has happened to the Order. I heard that the Herald had interactions with both the Lord Seeker and Grand Enchanter.” Josephine’s gaze locked onto Kyza with both curiosity and fierceness. "Would you like to tell us what happened in these interactions?” Josephine dipped her quill in an inkwell and prepared to write.

Kyza was confused. “Didn’t you get reports about what happened?” She remarked, gesturing outward. “I told the scouts what happened, they should have reported back.”

“Well yes, but…” Josephine explained, “The reports were not very substantial in helping us make a decision. We would like to her your perspective on the situation so we can decide how to move forward.”

Kyza let out a sigh, her arms uncrossing. She moved to clasp them behind her back, then continued. “Lord Seeker Lucius was not very….receptive of the Inquisition.” She shuddered a little, remembering what he said. _You are pathetic,_ ringing her head like a deathwish _._ Hesitantly, she continued. “Grand Enchanter Fiona seemed more reasonable. She invited me to come see the mages in Redcliffe, and to set up some sort of negotiation. Going forward, I would like to see what the mages have to offer, if only because they are willing to offer something in the first place.” Her feet began rocking back and forth. She hoped that sounded good.

The Commander let out a gruff. “While I would much prefer to seek the Templars, I see no harm in seeing what the mages want with us.” He nodded towards the Inquisitor before spreading his hands on the War Table and observing the map.

“I think we are all in agreement for this idea,” Cassandra chimed in, while her hands grasped her pommel. “Lord Seeker Lucius was not himself at Val Royeaux. I do not understand what is going on with the Order. But anyways,” She waved her hand toward the table. “We have other matters to discuss. Now about this refugee camp to the west….”

Kyza remained silent for the rest of the meeting, allowing her advisors to steer the decisions.

\--

The tavern was mostly empty at that point. Kyza had saved a small table in the corner for her and the Commander. He’d said he would need an hour after the meeting to get things done; she didn’t mind, nursing a light brew from Denerim, pondering over her upcoming trip to Redcliffe.

It was midday, and the sun added a gleam to the fresh snow outside the tavern. Few people were in the tavern that point, as most were attending to the Inquisition’s duties. The dull crackle of the fire pierced the air, warming Kyza’s senses, and she found herself settling into the stillness of the moment. It wouldn’t last for long. Preparations tonight, to Redcliffe tomorrow.

And there she sat, sipping her ale, pondering the Grand Enchanter’s offer. It all almost seemed too surreal. She hadn’t had a moment’s rest since she fell out of that hole in the sky. And here was all of Thedas, questioning her, spitting bile on her name, worshipping the ground she walked on, frightened of her newfound status as the chosen of the Maker’s wife – it hardly left time to sit in a tavern and drink some ale. But the Herald had her moments.

Soon enough, a heavy _whoomf_ signaled that the Commander had finally entered the tavern. His presence commanded attention; large in structure, with wide shoulders (or so it appeared with the armor on), and a rugged, straggled look to him. The fur lining his coat was dimpled with snow, causing him to glisten slightly in the radiance of the fire. His gloved hand pushed his hair back, making him look disheveled yet clean; it made no sense. The Commander could move mountains with an iron will while having the finesse of a bard, or so she assumed. A powerful man, and why she had invited him for a meal.

Kyza lifted her hand and waved him over with a gentle eagerness. Catching sight of her, the Commander nodded and began in her direction, the sound of his armor clanking in the harsh cold. Once he approached the table, a soft smile pursed his lips, and she beamed at him.

“I hope I did not keep you waiting,” the Commander observed, taking note of the half-finished ale. “I had matters to attend to, with the Order in particular.”

Kyza hardened at the mention of Templars. “What exactly are you doing with the Order, if I may ask?” she said, her hands clasping in front of her. She had hoped that the conversation would be light.

The Commander grunted as he took his seat. He ushered the waitress over with a swift motion and began to tap his fingers on the weathered table. “I do not know the Lord Seeker, but I have a hard time believing he convinced the entire Order to abandon the Chantry.” His nostrils flared a little, and he finally looked at Kyza for the first time. The man had the appearance of a lion; his facial structure was strong and edged, yet soft under the eyes and in the cheeks; his head was cocked slightly upwards, showing pride and importance; he seemed ready to attack at any moment, while remaining a calm composure. Kyza felt leagues below him.

“Templars aren’t ones to uproot their beliefs, their _lives_ , like that. But then again, I shouldn’t be too surprised.” Cullen cast his gaze downward, turning solemn. “Power structures have changed. The Chantry no longer has the iron fist over the Templars like it once did. And people are desperate.”

The waitress arrived with a hand on her hip. Her long, auburn hair was frazzled and her apron was smudged with stains. “What can I get for ya, commander,” she mumbled with a cheeky grin. “The usual? I’m also cooking a nice lamb stew in the back, and I could spare you a bowl.” Her gaze moved towards the Herald. “And you too, of course,” she assured.

“The usual, yes, and some of the stew please,” Cullen ordered, brushing her off. “Thank you much.”

Kyza was much warmer. “I would love some of the stew, uh-“ Kyza turned the slightest shade of red – “What is your name?”

“Ylissa, miss Herald,” the waitress answered heartily, patting her on the shoulder. “Not many people ask for my name y’know. They just want me to serve. I appreciate that even you can spare a name.” With that, she walked away, her hips moving almost sensually, towards the kitchen.

Cullen observed the Inquisitor with minute interest. She may not be an experienced leader, but she works well with the people. Surely, that is good for morale. And considering all the good that came out of her time in the Hinterlands, Cullen was wondering if she was onto something.

“I wish the Templars would be more cooperative,” Kyza sighed, taking Cullen out of his thoughts. “But I don’t know. I’m not committing to the mages when I visit Redcliffe. I just want to see what they have.” She placed her hands on the table, palms down. “Keep me updated on the Templar situation while I’m gone. I’d like to know what their forces are like.”

There was a gentleness in Kyza’s voice that befuddled The Commander. Especially since she was talking about Templars. As a mage. “You’d prefer the Templars over the mages?” Cullen inquired, with his eyebrows creased.

Kyza’s bottom lip quivered slightly, feeling the pressure of the question. “Well….yes. I know that’s surprising. But I have my reasons.” She glanced downward, but the awkward silence pressed on, so she reluctantly continued. “You saw me the other night. I’m Andrastian. The entire situation is mucked, but I know that Templars have the capability to do good things. And considering the Breach is magic, it only makes logical sense that….” she waved her hand absentmindedly and focused back on the Commander – “That they could cut off the magic coming from the Breach. And hopefully that means closing it.”

A strong, frosty breeze pushed through the door and filled the room with a sudden cold. Kyza felt unsure about the look the Commander was giving her. “By the Blight,” she heard the Commander murmur, “I never would have thought-“

“I know, it’s odd,” Kyza quickly interjected, with a jittery nervousness, “But I have my reasons. I’m still going to Redcliffe to see the situation with my own eyes. You know.” She became silent. The entire situation felt weird. Maker, she just wanted some nice conversation.

Cullen sensed her apish nature. “Well,” he coughed, while pulling awkwardly on his collar armor, “Anyways. You wanted to ask me some questions?”

Kyza smiled, grateful for the change of topic. “Yes, actually. A lot of it has to deal with battle and army tactics. As you’d expect, I don’t know a whole lot….”

The rest of the conversation flowed like winter syrup; slow and frigid, but rewarding and sweet. Cullen saw traits in the Inquisitor he quite liked; her willingness to learn (battle formations? A mage?), her warmth towards others, her acceptance of Templars. He was still unsure of her leading capabilities, and unsure of her in general; but he felt a sense of warmth between the two, and it pleased him. Kyza was just happy to be talking to the Commander. Before, it always felt like there was judgement towards her, and she was hoping this conversation would ease that.

Once they got their stews, both immediately plowed in. She ate her stew with a delicateness, stirring the stew after every bite and taking her time. He ate with a wolfish hunger, tearing into the stew like freshly slain lamb. The juxtaposition was intriguing, but neither noticed; they were happy to be there, to be sharing a moment of peace, if only for a meal. Soon enough, there was more work to attend to, so both bid their goodbyes and returned to their duties. But both felt warm, and good.  


	7. Of Templars and Mages

_Inquisitor,_

_An update on the Templar situation. In short, not very good. The Order refuses to answer our questions, and we are blocked every time we press further. The entire situation is mysterious._

_Good luck with Redcliffe._

_Cullen_

_\--_

_Commander,_

_I’ve just arrived in Redcliffe. Scouts say that the mages were not expecting us, which is very strange. Also said that a man by the name of Magister Alexius is in charge of this shindig. I figured I’d send a quick report to you ahead of time so you could investigate the name, because I’ve certainly never heard of him. This entire situation puts me at unease, but I’ll be tending to some locals in the meantime while I wait for the meeting to be arranged._

_Inquisitor_

_\--_

_Commander,_

_The situation is absolutely bizzare. The mage rebellion have pledged themselves to the Tevinter Imperium! What bloody fools! A rash decision that I certainly do not agree with. Fiona apparently didn’t remember that we had talked in Val Royeaux, which is incredibly worrying. She seceded all power to this magister before I could press her. While I was negotiating with this magister, trying to understand this stupid situation, his son collapsed and the magister had to take leave in order to take care of his son. But it was subterfuge! He left me a note saying to meet him in the Chantry, that was in danger. It was straight out of a novel, by the Maker._

_We quickly headed over to the Chantry, closing rifts and whatnot, only to meet the man’s apprentice, Dorian Pavus. And of course, to add to the silliness of this entire situation, he tells us that Alexius is using magic that manipulates time!_ _Of course. Of bloody course. Then the magister’s son Felix shows up, all well and mighty, and explains that his daddy is a part of a Tevinter cult called the Venatori, and they’re particularly obsessed with me for some reason._

_This is great. Bloody well great. First the sky rips open, then time magic is invented, then cults are taking over the world. What next? A dragon’s gonna swoop out of the sky and kill me? I’m gonna stand up and walk into the Fade? Who knows._

_Also, my hand stings, and I’m taking this as a very bad sign._

_I have a lot to talk about when I get back. Be prepared._

_Inquisitor_

_\--_

“My dear, I don’t think rubbing it will help,” Vivienne advised. They were all on their way back to Haven, riding horseback up the mountains. Kyza’s left hand burned; it ebbed and flowed normally, but within the last two days it had become constant, and she was worried. Solas was back at Haven, so hopefully he would have a solution, but until then, she had to deal with it. Vivienne wasn’t helping.

“It makes me feel better at least,” Kyza retorted. The way back up the mountains was slick and frosty, making the path harder to climb, as winter began to settle into the Frostbacks. As if they weren’t cold enough already. She let go of her palm and pulled her cloak tighter around her body.

They were a night away from Haven, but Kyza had elected to keep trudging through it. The sooner she got to Haven, the faster this burning would last, and the quicker she could make up her mind about these stupid Mages and Templars. It was almost stereotypical, how the entire situation was playing out. Of course they couldn’t agree with each other. There’s centuries of bad blood there. And of course, everyone assumed she would side with the mages. The only person who knew otherwise was Cullen, and even he wasn’t entirely convinced. And of course, the Chantry still hated her. Of course.

Kyza sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She hoped that her advisors would come to a conclusion before she arrived. While she was getting bolder with her stance in the Inquisition, she still acknowledged that she was clueless about most of the situation. All and all, she was still just the Herald of Andraste, the symbol. Not the true leader, just the symbol. It took a certain weight off of her shoulders.

“Still recoiling over all the weird shit we saw?” Varric interjected, slapping his thigh with a loud _thud_. “I mean, I’ve seen some pretty weird shit in Kirkwall, but let me tell you, that was some _weird_ shit.” He cackled lightly, bringing a smile to Kyza’s mouth.

“And people think the Breach is weird,” Kyza retorted. “Wait until they hear about time traveling magic! If they didn’t think the world was doomed already, they’d better hold on to their breaches.”

The entire party laughed at that statement, with Bull slapping her on the back. “Ben-Hassrath’s gonna wanna hear about this. As if we didn’t hate the Vints enough. They just know how to make us hate them more.” With that, he took a swig of the brew he was holding.

“Couldn’t wait till we got back to Haven to drink?” Kyza asked, while unconsciously rubbing her palm again.

“You’ve got us trotting through snow for the entire night, and I’ve just learned that time magic exists,” Bull blurted, wiping his lips with his arm. “I’ve gotta cope somehow, boss.”

Kyza cackled, and smiled towards the sky. This entire Herald situation wasn’t as shabby as she thought.

\--

“Redcliffe castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults. If you go in there“- He glared at Kyza – “you’ll _die_. And we’ll lose the only means of closing these Rifts.” Cullen shuddered slightly. “I won’t allow it.”

There it was. She didn’t mean anything to this Inquisition other than to close Rifts and to boost morale. She’d accepted that all at this point, but hearing it straight from the Commander was unnerving.

“And if we don’t even try and meet Alexius,” Leliana debated, “we lose the mages, and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep.”

Josephine chimed in. “Even if we could assault the keep, it would be for naught. An Orlesian Inquisition’s forces marching into Ferelden would provoke a war.” She said the last few words with a roll of her tongue; an Antivan twist of words. “Our hands are tied.”

“The magister-“

“Has outplayed us,” Cullen growled, clearly frustrated.

Kyza felt the need to play the options. “What about the Templars?” She inquired, pinching her chin with her hand. “The mages have laid a trap. The Templars have not.”

“So you think,” Leliana mused. “Their situation is mysterious and they have been hiding information. Their trap may just be better hidden. My scouts have located the Templars to be in Therinfal. They seem interested in what the Inquisition has to offer, yet they hold back. We have to show them we are worthwhile.”

Josephine came in on cue. “If it is status they want,” she stated, waving her quill around, “The Inquisition will approach them after allying with the highest of nobles in Orlais.”

“The Seeker will have a hard time refusing so many nobles at his doorstep,” Cassandra agreed. “Especially if our Herald leads the way.”

“Unfortunately,” Kyza began, “The Lord Seeker does not seem to think much of me. I do not think I can convince him of anything.”

Cullen growled. “Honestly, after his display in Val Royeaux, _hang_ what the Lord Seeker has to say. We need his Templars, not him.” Unknown to the Commander, this statement made Kyza feel warm, and good.

“So where are we in this decision?” Leliana questioned, placing her palms on the table. “We need an answer now.”

Kyza’s mark suddenly began to burn more, and she gripped it with a small cry. The advisors reached for her, but she shooed them away.

“It’s – it’s nothing,” she reassured, as she moved to lean against the wall. “It’s been like this. I will talk to Solas after the meeting. Carry on.”

The advisors looked concerned, but did not press the matter. “Well then. I, for one,” Josephine started, “Side with the mages.”

“As do I,” Leliana agreed, and she put a knife at the center of Redcliffe. “If a mage holds the mark, it only makes sense that magic would solve the problem.”

“I disagree,” Cullen rejected, putting a knife on top of Therinfal. “The Templars may be suspicious, but they are good people. And if you think the Templars are disorganized, I can assure you, the mages are ten times worse.”

“Lord Seeker Lucius may be mad, but the Templars are not,” Cassandra added. “And Templars have the power to stop magic – thus the Breach. It makes sense.”

“And thus, the decision falls onto you, Herald,” Josephine directed towards Kyza. “Surely you must have an opinion on this.”

Oh Maker. This wasn’t her job. This wasn’t supposed to fall onto her. She has no idea what’s going on half the time! Sure, Kyza talked to Cullen about battle tactics, and sure, she’s been getting lessons from Josephine on talking to people, but this – this was out of her league.

Kyza gripped her hand and flinched. “Are you sure I should be making this decision? I do not think that is smart.”

“And why not?” Josephine rebuttled, waving her arm towards the map. “You have been dealing up close with this conflict much more than the rest of us. And we cannot reach a decision. In the end, you will be the one closing the Breach, and thus, your voice matters.”

Her explanation made sense, and Kyza was mad that it made sense. “Can I have some time to think about this? I’m a little preoccupied.” She held her hand up, and the mark glowed with an intense flash of green.

“Unfortunately not,” Cassandra blurted, her sharp tone constricting Kyza like a vice. “You have been feeling this pain for days. I suspect it is the Breach growing more powerful. We think that your freezing of the Breach was only temporary and that soon it will continue to grow. You must make a decision before it gets worse.”

Kyza groaned, both in pain and in frustration. The Templar situation was confusing and potentially harmful. As much as she tried not to, the Lord Seeker’s words rang in her voice whenever she thought about and alliance with the Templars. She feared they would not accept her, just like the Chantry. Plus, gathering nobles would take time, time they did not have. And Therinfal? Why were they waiting in Therinfal? All of it made her uneasy.

But were the mages any better? They were being led by a Tevinter magister who was practicing time magic, by bloody Andraste! Plus, the sudden amnesia of Grand Enchanter Fiona made her wonder. Did the mages even want anything to do with the Inquisition?

She couldn’t think more. She had to make a decision.

Without a word, Kyza walked up to the map, grabbed the knife pinned to Therinfal, and threw it on the ground.

“We’re going to Redcliffe,” She muttered, before storming out of the room. They would have many questions, but she didn’t care right now. She needed Solas’s help, and she needed to rest. Damned their questions.


	8. A Different Herald

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School should be starting up soon. I'll try to do a chapter a week at least now. I'm very proud of this chapter!

Kyza had just been a few paces out of the Chantry when she heard the heavy clunk of armor behind her. She knew who it was - the man who opposed her decision the most. She didn’t care. All she wanted was to go up near the tavern, where her Fadey-little friend studied, and to get rid of this _burning_ , this _deathly squeeze_ that had gripped her hand for days.

The soft crunching of snow came with a clank of polished armor. “Herald, wait!” Cullen commanded, with frustration ebbing in his voice. Soon enough, he was right behind her and without hesitation he gripped her left wrist-

“Don’t touch me!” She howled, thrashing her arm out of the Commander’s grip. The Commander recoiled, surprised at the edge in Kyza’s voice, and stared at her blankly. Before he had time to reply, she was marching off again towards the tavern.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Cullen pressed as he followed not far behind. His frustration had returned in full force as he barked at Kyza. “The mages? Are you insane? You can’t just make such a bold decision and saunter off like-“

“It HURTS, Cullen!” She screamed, turning around to look him dead in the eyes. “My hand” – she thrust her left hand into his face with determination – “has been hurting for days, and I don’t bloody well know why, but it hurts. And I’m scared of it, I don’t know why it hurts, ok?  I’m scared.” Her hand fell wayside and a softness lent itself to her voice. “I need to talk to Solas. He’s the only one who might know what’s going on. I know you’re mad, I know everybody’s mad, but can we _please_ talk about this later? I can’t….” Kyza’s voice trailed off as tears and her heart dropped. Quickly she turned around and darted away from him, leaving him stunned and flushed.

“Maker be purged,” he muttered as his face fell into his hands. A raw burst of wind pushed his coat forward and stung his ears red. Cullen shivered slightly. This was a mess.

\--

“Rifts are opening across Thedas,” Solas observed, his gaze on the mark. Slowly, his hand smoothed over the Mark, back and forth, back and forth. “I can numb the pain for now, but we have to close this Breach soon.” He looked up to the sky and observed the swirling, green vortex in the sky.

“You are connected to this Breach, and all that comes with it.” Solas’s hand began to glow, a soft blue aura illuminating the air. He placed it on her mark, gently, and began to work the lyrium in his body. “We may have stopped it from growing, but tears are still opening across Thedas. The more that are open, the more connected you become with it – and the more pain you feel.”

Kyza was sitting on the ground and leaning against the shack, numb to her core from both the cold and from the conversation. The world felt still and quiet, even though it couldn’t be farther from that. “So I have to close this Breach soon.” The statement rang hollow through her ears.

“If at all possible,” Solas agreed as he reached into his pocket for some herbs. “I trust you have made a decision going forward?”

She nodded, looking at the ground. A puff of cold air released itself from her lips. “I am going to Redcliffe to try and convince the Mages.”

Solas remained silent, focusing on the mark. The next few minutes were spent in concentration, with each lost in their own world. Kyza kept thinking about the mages, and Cullen’s anger. It was an impulsive decision. She knows it. But what choice did she have? And she had her reasons. Maybe she could explain them to the advisors later. After a prayer, perhaps. Maybe a prayer would push the Maker to take pity on her.

She looked up towards the sky at the Breach. It was her job to close that, solely. The Maker had tasked her to close that bloody hole in the sky. But why? She had done nothing wrong. Her whole life she spent praying to him, faithful to Andraste’s chantry. Now, here she was. Because of the Conclave. The Divine was dead, and everything she had hoped to achieve there….was now in ashes. Unwillingly, tears began to line her eyes. Why did the Maker choose her to do this? Why? Would he ever answer her calls?

A light snow began to fall upon the quiet town.

\--

When Cullen eventually found her, she was in the healing tent, tending to a soldier’s wounded thigh.

It was evening out, and a few candles lit the small area just enough that he could make her out. Kyza was kneeling down next to the bedroll. Sweat pricked her forehead as she moved her hands over the thigh, infusing his wound with lyrium. She’d changed clothes since he’d last seen her; she was wearing a purple robe, thick and lined with wool. Down the back was a pattern of an elfroot, the roots intertwining with each other down the spine of the cloth, all the way down to her feet. And finally, when he glanced at her face, he saw something new in her; solace. She looked absolutely peaceful healing this soldier.

This was the first time Cullen had seen her heal, in person. He felt impure just by intruding, as if he was poisoning the Maker’s well himself. Unconsciously, his hand rubbed his neck and he blushed. _Maybe tomorrow_ , he mused, as he open the flap out to the tent. _Yes, tomorrow_.  

“Stay.” A whisper in the wind, yet loud in his ears. Cautiously, he let the flap fall back down, and he slowly turned around to face her. A paltry smile pulled her lips as she tenderly put her hands down. “I was just finishing. I hope you don’t mind.”

“N-no,” he stuttered out, mentally cursing himself. “I uh-“

“Walk with me back to my tent,” Kyza mused with pursed lips. Slowly, she pushed herself off of her knees, her cloak bending with her body. Quickly, she snapped her fingers and the candles extinguished, startling Cullen. Then he heard the flap behind him being pushed back, and he swiftly followed.

The snow was still falling, but softly, like small feathers in the air. The Breach, damned as it was, produced an emerald glean across the snow, making it sparkle like fairy dust. Haven was still, save for a few guards making patrol. And here he was, with the Herald, and a smile on his own lips.

But he remembered why he had found her. Guilt washed over his bones and his face flushed again. They were walking now, quietly, side by side, and for some reason he felt nervous. Guilty and nervous. “I’m sorry for earlier,” Cullen blurted out, before he could overthink it too much.

He heard a sigh. _Maker be damned, I’ve ruined it,_ he chastised himself, as he watched the smile fall from her face. Now he felt truly dirty in the eyes of Andraste. Quickly, quickly, he had to say _something_ -

“I was angry, angry with-“ he waved his hands in the air, and let out a frustrated gruff before letting them fall and then he pinched the bridge of his nose. “It doesn’t matter. I wasn’t thinking, regardless. And it wasn’t – well, it wasn’t very nice of me. I forget how hard it is for you sometimes. For all of us.” He sighed.

Surprisingly, he heard a small chuckle come from the small woman. “I understand,” she acknowledged, putting a hand on his forearm. A warm shiver went through his body, and the hairs on his arm stood to attention. “I know I have some explaining to do.”

The air between them was silent and calm. For a few moments, Kyza was still, gathering her thoughts. Then, she began. “I wanted to side with the Templars,” she began, as she loosened her grip on Cullen. “But the Templars at Val Royeaux, the way they looked at me, like I was the filth of the Maker…..” Cullen noticed she gripped her left hand. His heart dropped.

“Templars have always had power over us. They’ve always had a sense of guidance, through the Chantry. Even though the Order is in chaos, there is always the Maker’s will to follow. Mages have never had that.” Kyza stopped in place and crossed her arms, looking at the sky. “We’ve always been abominations to the Maker. We are taken away from our families as soon as we are found to be tainted. In our own way, we are all orphans.”

Cullen nodded solemnly, gazing at the Herald. The Breach cast a soft green light on her, making her look radiant. He understood what she was talking about, if only somewhat. He had seen orphaned kids at the Circle in Ferelden, crying for their parents in vain. At the time, it made sense for their separation, but now….

“The mages in Redcliffe looked at me in hope, Commander,” Kyza marveled, and her hazel eyes gleamed with astonishment. “With the fall of the Circles around Thedas, so many mages were left to fend for themselves. I saw it in the Hinterlands, and I saw it in my travels before this Inquisition even started. When you’ve been ripped away from your parents at birth, stuck in a tower for your entire life, constantly watched by the Maker’s guards, and then it all explodes in one swift motion, what is there to do?”

Cullen was dumbstruck. How had he never thought of this before? It was hard out there for everybody right now, but the mages were hit hard after Kirkwall. And he had been such a coward about it there, throwing mages into judgement as if they were cattle, _Maker be damned!_

“They sided with Tevinter because they’re lost, Cullen.” The way she said his name sent lightning through his veins. “Magister Alexius is a bad man, I am sure of that. But the mages are not bad people. They just need someone to guide them down the right path. And I want the Inquisition to be that guide.” Finally, she looked down back at Cullen, with anguish in her eyes. “I know it’s not what you wanted. But I hope you can understand. If I’m to be a symbol for the Inquisition, I want it to mean something.”

“You’re more than just a symbol,” Cullen found himself saying. He was mesmerized by Kyza. “I hope you know that.” A smile was pulling on his lips, and much to his chagrin, he found himself obliging.

She smiled, and the freckles on her cheeks popped out against the Breach’s green aura. “Maybe.” She continued walking to her tent, and Cullen’s feet followed automatically, as if he was drawn by her radiance.

“I, uh,” He mumbled without thinking, “I am glad that you are feeling better.” _What a stupid thing to say,_ he thought miserably.

“Healing helps me when I feel sad,” she hummed. They were walking on cobblestones now, and the crunching of snow turned into the silent patter of leather against rock. “I’m not good in battle. I’m getting better, but I’m not good. I feel like a burden to my team when I’m out there. With healing, I can take the burden off of someone else. It’s relaxing, too. There’s no pressure. I like it.”

Soon enough, they were at her tent. Kyza turned around to face the Commander, and beamed at him. “Thank you for the escort,” she said with a curtsy. Both laughed.

“It was my pleasure,” he smirked, and gave a small bow himself. “Have a good night, Herald.”

“You too, Commander.”

She gracefully bowed into her tent, and Cullen began walking towards his own.

Maker, how was she such a good person? Cullen thought about her the entire stride home. Now he knew he had truly underestimated her. What more could this strong, beautiful woman do?

When Cullen went to sleep that night, he found himself unusually warm inside.  


End file.
